Broken Hearts Across the Way
by OverTheStars87
Summary: Harry' final year at Hogwarts is turning out to be very unusual. He finds love in the most likely of unlikely places, and his best friend his slowly loosing his sanity. Will an old enemy and new pain push Harry over the edge, or will he be able to hold on
1. Lies of Love

**Chapter 1**

_Lies of Love_

"The moment we begin to fear the opinions of others and hesitate to tell the truth that is in us, and from motives of policy we are silent when we should speak, the divine floods of light and life no longer flow into our souls." – Elizabeth Cady Stanton

**"I**t's still getting worse. I can't even think straight when it starts to hurt. I wish it would just let up for a few minuets."

It was the summer before Harry's seventh and final year at Hogwarts. He sat on the bed in the guest bedroom of Hermione's house. The next morning, the two of them would go to Diagon Alley and meet up with Ron. The next day would be spent at The Burrow until it was time to board the Hogwarts Express, to the last year of Harry's best experience. But now he talked to Hermione about the tingling of his famous scar.

Hermione sat next to him. "Are you still getting Voldemort's feelings at times, or has that stopped?"

"It's weird; at times, I won't sense it all, but other times it so strong that it affects my own mood. A couple weeks ago, he was so happy, I told Dudley that I was proud that he did so well in his boxing match and gave him a hug. And then he punched me for hugging him."

Hermione smiled, but quickly hid it when she saw the look on his face. "Have you been clearing your mind before bed like Dumbledore told you to?"

"Yes, but it doesn't seem to be working. I still have dreams and the mood impressions. What if Voldemort manages to take control of my body again? I'll die this time; the pain last time was agonizing." He looked over at Hermione, who looked terrified at the idea and already had tears brimming in her large brown eyes. "Hey, don't cry. I'm sure that it won't happen again."

Despite Harry's attempts at comfort, the tears began to flow from Hermione's eyes and she wiped them away quickly before they slid to far down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said shakily, still wiping the tears from her eyes. "It's just... I can't loose you. What would Ron and I do? We get into a fight every other day, and I haven't another true friend in the world. If you died, I'd die myself." Her voice broke and she started to sob, her cries racking her fragile body. She buried her face in her arms to muffle her weeping.

"Oh, Hermione," he started, wrapping his arms her and pulling her into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. "You have nothing to worry about. I'm not going anywhere." He absentmindedly stroked her hair, feeling her slight body tremble in his embrace.

"I'm never going to let you go, do you here me? I'm NEVER saying goodbye. YOU HEAR? NEVER."

"You won't, you won't." He smiled slightly. "I'm not going to leave you alone. Not ever." He pulled her back from him and looked her in the eye. "I promise."

Hermione let a smile creep onto her quivering lips. "Good."

For some reason, Harry felt his heart clench as he looked at her face, which was still exquisite, even when her eyes were puffy and red from crying. But he couldn't figure out why he thought that. And why were there butterflies in his stomach when she looked at him like that? Why did he suddenly long to find out if her lips were as soft and warm as they looked? He felt himself blush unwillingly. Hermione smiled as she noticed.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I'm just a little warm that's all." He cleared his throat and looked out the window.

Hermione was bewildered. She knew Harry better than anyone else, perhaps with the exception of Ron. But before now she never that he had feelings for her; feelings she told herself he would never had. That was why she had buried her own when she discovered them. But know, she didn't know what to think.

"Harry? Really; what is it?" She wanted to hear it directly from him.

"Nothing."

"Harry."

"What?"  
"You and I both know that it isn't nothing. Please tell me."

He sighed, his heart beating so hard that he felt it would shatter beneath his chest. It leapt into his throat, and he swallowed nervously.

She let go of his neck and grabbed his hand. It was warm and soft, Harry noted. "You can tell me. That's what friends are for." She smiled at him.

He looked into her eyes, so full of innocence and caring. He swallowed again. He mumbled something and looked at the floor.

"What did you say?" Hermione asked.

"I ..." He began to mumble again, and Hermione couldn't hear the rest of the sentence.

"Harry, I still can't hear you."

Harry looked at her desperately, on the verge of tears from embarrassment. She was still looking at him with innocence in her eyes. At a loss for words, Harry did the first thing that came into his mind without thinking, and before he could stop himself.

He leaned in and kissed Hermione. Her throat caught in surprise, but she closed her eyes to take in the pleasure of it all. Harry broke away, still tasting her on his lips. She took in a breath, and smiled at him.

"That was pretty clear," she said.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." He shifted uncomfortably and stared at his feet.

"No, it's okay. I enjoyed it."

"Really?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, that's a relief. I don't need a Cho flash back, you know."

Hermione laughed. "I'll try to keep my tear outbursts to a minimum."

Harry let go of Hermione's hand. "It's getting kind of late. I have to pack for tomorrow."

"Oh Harry. What are we going to tell Ron?"

"About what?"

"What just happened Harry?"

"Oh yes, that. Well, why don't we try the truth, and see how that works out?"

"Okay. I'll see you in the morning." She stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Harry." She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. Harry remained on the bed staring at the moon outside the window, fully appreciating its beauty for the first time. After a few more minuets of gazing, he stood up and pulled his trunk out of the closet. He spent the next ten minuets retrieving his clothing from the dresser and placing it neatly in his trunk.

When he was done, he took the letters he'd received that summer from the top of the dresser. The first one was the birthday card Ron had sent him a couple of weeks ago. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he reread the card. He had known that his friend had feelings for Hermione, even if he wasn't willing to admit it, and Harry couldn't help but feel as if he'd betrayed Ron. For the first time, Harry wasn't excited about seeing his best friend.

-

Harry woke up the next morning as sunlight streamed across his face. He leaned up on one arm and squinted at the window. Hedwig was there, clicking her beak against the pane impatiently. Groaning, Harry threw off the covers and walked to the window, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He opened it and held his arm to his owl, who gracefully perched on it and stuck out her leg. He sat down on the bed and removed the piece of parchment. Hedwig hooted once and nipped his hand before flying out the window.

He unrolled the parchment and quickly scanned over it. It was from Ron, stating that they would be picked up at Hermione's house at nine forty-five, accompanied by a guard. He also said how happy he was to be seeing the two of them again. Harry's stomach knotted as memories from the night before sprang up in his mind. With every minute that passed, Harry grew more apprehensive about seeing his friend.

He crumpled up the parchment and stuffed the ball into his pocket. He threw on a clean set of clothes then walked down the hall into the kitchen.

Hermione was already there, sitting alone at the table, eating a bowl of porridge. She heard Harry coming and smiled as he sat down next her. He smiled awkwardly at her and she kissed him on the cheek. "Morning," she said brightly.

"I got an owl from Ron just now. He said that he and the guard will be here at quarter of ten to take us to Diagon Alley." He looked around the kitchen and leaned back to look down the hall into the living room. "Where are your mum and dad?"

"They left for work already," she replied. "They both had early appointments at the office."

"Oh," Harry said simply. He grabbed an apple from the bowl and bit through the crisp skin.

"So, we're agreed to tell Ron about us, right?"

"Well, that's if you want to be a couple."

Hermione looked mystified for a moment, but the look was replaced by a smile quickly. "Of course, why wouldn't I?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. It always seemed that you and Ron would get together. He was always jealous of Krum, and you seemed to kinda like him, too."

She giggled. "Oh that. I guess I did have a little crush on him in second and third year, but nothing more than a crush."

Harry looked very relieved. "Good. Well. Not good...well for me it is, not for – you know what I mean."

"Yes, don't worry." Hermione swallowed the last bite of porridge and looked up at the wall clock hanging over the refrigerator. "Oh; it's almost nine thirty. We'd better get our trunks and stuff into the living room."

"Okay." Harry finished off his apple and tossed the core into the waste basket as he stood up. While Hermione was washing out her bowl in the sink, he snuck up behind her and tickled her sides. She jumped and turned around. As she did, Harry caught her face in his hands and kissed her; a soft, playful kiss.

He smiled. "That's fun; I could get used to this. Easy."

Hermione smiled back. "Let's not do the tickling anymore; how about that?"

"Okay," he said and walked down the hall to retrieve his trunk, smiling to himself.

-

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down Diagon Alley, with the sun beating on their faces. Ron, now taller and ganglier than ever, was talking about his brother Charlie; a story that Harry tried to stay interested in but found very difficult. As with all fresh relationships, Harry longed to be next to Hermione; to gaze at the sunbeams bounce off her hair, to feel her soft hand in his, to taste her sweet lips on his.

He looked behind Ron at her. She was enthralled by the story, nodding at all the right places and asking the questions she knew Ron was all too happy to answer. She caught Harry's eye after a few moments and smiled at him. Harry raised his eyebrows and glanced to Ron then back to her. 'We should tell him while he's in a good mood,' the look said. The smile faded from her face and she nodded glumly.

They waited until Ron was finished with his story, and saw they were at the steps of Gringotts. "So, what have you two been up to this summer?" Ron asked.

Harry took in a breath. "Actually, a lot. Um...Hermione wanted to tell you something."

Hermione shot Harry a deadly look, but replaced it with a somewhat weak smile when Ron turned to her. "Uh...well...I, er. I'm Head Girl!"

Ron grinned at her. "That's fantastic, Hermione. I knew you'd get it!" He hugged her, and she looked at Harry smiled sadly. He rolled his eyes. Ron let go Hermione and turned to Harry. "What about you; are you Head Boy?"

"No, thankfully. I don't need that much responsibility." He tried to make himself tell Ron about him and Hermione, but found himself saying that they should get going if they wanted get everything done. _Damn it_, he thought. _This is harder than I thought_.

Ron turned and walked up the stairs, and Harry gave Hermione a desperate look behind his back.

"We'll tell him later," she muttered before climbing up behind him.

Harry took up the rear; silently hoping that later would never come.

-

They walked down the street a few hours later, talking and laughing. But Harry still had guilt lurking in the back of his mind. He was making up his mind on how to tell Ron, when he was cut off by Ron himself.

"Why don't we go visit Fred and George?" he asked, pointing to the next store.

"That's sounds great," Harry said, very much relieved. He followed Hermione and Ron into the shop.

Inside the shop, all sorts of candies and knick knacks lined the shelves and the counter. Children – all from Hogwarts – walked from shelf to shelf, eagerly taking down this and that. Harry saw a fellow Gryffindor, Dean Thomas, looking at a small blue pie, and walked over to him.

"Hey, Dean."

Dean looked up. "Hullo, Harry; are you doing your school shopping, too"

"Yeah, with Ron and Hermione." He pointed behind him, where Ron and Hermione were talking to Fred and George behind the counter.

"Well, Hermione has certainly...er...filled out nicely this summer, hasn't she?"

Harry turned again to look at her, and once more discovered that her robes slightly hugged her curves perfectly. He smiled and looked over a Dean, who appeared to be oblivious to the fact that he was staring at Hermione.

Harry snapped his fingers in front of Dean's face. "Come on back to us, Dean."

Dean blinked and shook his head. "Sorry, mate. It's just, well, you know." He motioned to Hermione, who was laughing at Fred, who'd given Ron some sort of sweet that was causing his head to blow up like a balloon. Ron was yelling, but in a very high pitched voice.

Harry gazed at Hermione, the gentle, warm glow returning to his stomach and throat. "Yeah, I get you."

Dean glanced at Harry, noticing the look on his face. "Oh, are you and Hermione..." He raised eyebrows and offered a mischievous smile.

"Oh no, we just... no we're umm... well..." he stammered, trying to locate the words that formed a logical sentence. He sighed. "Look, we're trying to tell Ron that we're kind of... you know... so don't say anything to anyone. Please?"

"No problem. I have to go. More important things to buy. See you on the train tomorrow." He picked up his other packages and left, nodding to Harry.

Harry walked around a display to the counter. Ron's head had stopped growing, but he still was talking in a squeaky voice. "Hey Fred, hey George. What did you give Ron exactly?"

Fred grinned. "A new candy we needed tested."

"It's called a Chocolate Ego-Boost Egg," said George.

"We got the idea from Percy –"

"– when he became Head Boy."

"Nothing against you, Hermione."

"No offence taken," she replied, still smiling.

Harry walked around the counter and squeezed in next to Hermione. "How do you get his head to deflate?"

"Another candy," George answered. "And you're in luck Ron."

"That needs to be tested, too." Fred tried to put on a serious face. "Now, let's go in back and shrink your head."

Ron glared at Fred and George, and then followed Fred into the back room. He bumped Harry, who grinned at him. Hermione moved closer to Harry so that her fingers brushed against his hand. She blushed and smiled up at Harry, who smiled back.

George looked at Harry, to Hermione, back to Harry, with a suspicious look on his face. He squinted at them for another moment then said; "How long?"

Harry was bewildered. "How long what?"

"You two. How long?"

"What about us?" Hermione asked innocently.

"Come on; don't play stupid. How long have you guys been together?"

Harry was taken back slightly, but quickly recovered. "We're not together. Why would you say that?"

"The way you were looking at Hermione while you were talking to Dean; the way she was talking about you; the ridiculous smiles you to have on your faces when you anywhere near each other. Ring any bells?"

"Fine, you're right," Hermione said. "But please don't say anything to anyone, especially Ron. We're going to tell him ourselves."

"Okay, okay; I won't say anything, but hurry up and tell him. He'll be more hurt if he finds out from someone else than from his friends."

"I know," Harry grumbled.

Ron and Fred came out from the back room. Ron's head appeared to be back to normal size, but he still looked mad.

"Your head looks good," Hermione said.

"Yeah, I guess," Ron said, in a voice that was still an octave higher than his normal one. "Let's go and find Mum. I just want to go home." He picked up his parcels off the counter and headed for the door.

"We'll talk to you guys later," Fred said as Hermione and Harry followed Ron.

"And remember to talk to him," George called after them as they slipped out the door.

"Who does he want you to talk to?" Ron asked, looking left and right for the rest of his family.

"He wants me to say hello to Dumbledore and ask if they can get their sweets and jokes legal again," Hermione said before Harry could respond.

"They should be allowed; they're just for fun. Filch can be such a git sometimes."

Harry looked at Hermione, who chewed her lower lip nervously.

"There's Mum," Ron chirped, and turned toward Flourish and Blotts, where his mother and sister, Ginny, were waiting.

Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her back. "What was that?"

She walked slowly, as to not get to close to Ron so he wouldn't hear. "I didn't want to tell him in a public place."

"But in public, there are witnesses, so he'll be less violent."

"We'll tell him tomorrow, on the train where we can be alone. He'll understand why we waited."

"Hopefully," Harry mumbled as Mrs. Weasley rushed to them. "Come on, come on; I've got to get home and get dinner going. And we must have a celebration for Hermione. Congratulations; Ron's just told me the good news." She hugged Hermione.

Hermione hugged back. "Thanks so much, but I don't a party."

Mrs. Weasley let her go. "It won't be a big party. Just us and a few choice members of the Order." She whispered the last sentence; although everyone knew Voldemort had come back, the new Minister of Magic was still trying to deny the Order of the Phoenix any authority, in fear of an overthrow.

"That's okay, as long you don't do anything to extravagant and put yourself out. You do more than enough for me."

Mrs. Weasley shot her two youngest children a glare. "Why thank you Hermione. You are so sweet to say that."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Mom, my head is spinning; I've no idea what Fred filled my head with. Let's just go home."

"Alright, alright. Come on, you three; before Ron explodes."

Harry looked at Hermione as Ron walked past them. 'Tonight,' he mouthed at her, and she nodded back glumly.

_If we keep putting this off_, he thought,_ we are never going to tell him._ And that didn't seem to be such a bad thing.

-

The Weasley family, – with the exception of Percy and the twins – Hermione, Harry, Moody, Lupin, and Tonks sat at the table in the Burrow. Plates of all kinds of delicious smelling food covered the table, and the whole of the party was happily eating and laughing.

After everyone was finished eating dinner, Mr. Weasley brought out a cake that was bewitched to make the icing that read: 'Congratulations Hermione!' and smaller wording underneath: 'And Harry and Ron," to blink. Hermione blushed prettily as everyone clapped and gave calls of "bravo" and "well done." By the time everyone had eaten at least two pieces of cake, most people were sitting full and content, private conversations buzzing about.

Harry turned to Ron was sitting next to him. "Let's go to your room; we haven't had enough time to catch up."

"Okay," Ron replied, standing. The three went to the stairwell and climbed up, the voices dying slowly behind them. Harry gave an involuntary shiver as he was reminded of the voices behind the veil in the Department of Secrets. Lately, the voices had been invading his dreams, violently beating them into nightmares, but he kept that to himself, not wanting to worry his friends. He shook his head clear of the racket as the stopped in front of Ginny's room.

Hermione yawned, a bit too big to be realistic. "I'm exhausted you guys. I'll see you in the morning," she said, opening the door.

"G'night, Hermione," Ron said, climbing the stairs to his bedroom.

Harry waited until Ron turned the corner to steal a kiss from Hermione. "'Night," he whispered.

"'Night," she whispered back.

Harry rushed up the stairs. He got in the room just as Ron was pulling his pajamas out of his dresser. They got changed in silence, and Harry climbed under the blankets on his cot as Ron shimmied into his own bed.

"Too bad about not becoming Head Boy," Ron said, propping his head on his arm.

"I'm not too surprised," Harry replied. "I didn't really want to be it anyway."

"It's actually kind of rare for the Head Boy and Head Girl to be of the same House. It's only happened once or twice since... well, since your parents were Head Boy and Girl." Ron gave him a small, sad smile.

"I wonder who the Head Boy is," Harry said, eager to change the subject.

"I suppose we'll find out tomorrow, won't we? Hermione has to patrol the train with him every so often."

Harry's stomach knotted painfully. _Now's as good a time as any_, he thought dolefully. "Ron," he started, "I've got to talk to you about something. Me and Hermi –"

"AAAHHHGGG!" He was broken off by a scream emitted from Ron, who bolted upright, hands clenched into fists at his temples. The scars of welts made by the brain two years ago deepened and burned a deeper scarlet. Ron let out another scream. Harry flung off his covers and knelt next to Ron on the bed.

Ever since the summer before the sixth year, Ron had episodes of horrendous measure, caused by the brains hideous powers. Ron never told what he saw exactly, but Harry could guess that they were some sort of horrifying scene; a memory perhaps. They became less frequent over time, now only once or twice a month, but that did not lessen their intensity.

"GET OUT!" Ron yelled. "STOP TORTURING ME AND GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" His fingers dug through his hair peeled of the top layer of skin, spots of blood showing through his fingers.

Hermione burst through the door, wearing a tight fitting nightgown.

"Is anyone coming?" Harry asked her quickly.

"No; I don't think they heard him." Her eyes were filled with worry and anxiety.

Nothing could be down to help Ron or to stop the episodes. They had to play out on their own. They would stop suddenly and Ron would collapse with near exhaustion.

Ron suddenly opened his eyes; something he'd never done during an outbreak. They were a filmy white; eyes one might see on a blind person. They looked past Hermione, terrified, darting back and forth as though looking at an entire scene. Ron's arms dropped from his head and grabbed at his stomach, as if what he saw made him sick.

"No, no; please no!" he cried out. It wasn't his voice at all; it was a woman's voice Harry had never heard before. He looked over at Hermione, who looked as bewildered as he felt.

"You can't! He has a child that needs him! He can't grow up without a father!" Tears were pouring down Ron's cheeks and sobs heaved at his chest. He looked up and was silent; listening to a person only he could see. His head snapped to the side as if receiving a blow, and gave a sharp cry. Hermione gasped and clamped her hands to her mouth. She swayed but remained glued her spot in the doorway. Harry had stood up and backed away from the bed, taking in the ghastly scene. Ron continued to bawl in the strange woman's voice.

Ron's attention snapped back in front of him. His eyes widened with terror and his lips trembled. "No," he whispered in a quavering voice. "No, you can't. NOOO!" The feminine shriek pierced Harry's ears.

Ron eyes closed, and he silently fell to the side. Harry rushed and caught him before he hit the floor. He managed to push Ron fully back on the bed. The welts on his arms were slowly fading back to normal.

Hermione snapped out of her trance and walked to Harry side.

"Did that ever happen before," she whispered, afraid of waking Ron.

"No," Harry replied. "The worst I ever saw went on for ten full minuets, but it was just yelling. He had to stay in the hospital wing for the rest of the day. This must be new."

"Harry, maybe we should hold off on telling Ron about us."

"That sounds good. He's not going to be in a good mood after this."

"I'd better get off to bed before Ginny wanders up and sees me gone." She turned, a blank look in her face, and slowly walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Harry climbed onto his cot. He could see beads of sweat on his friend's forehead, and wondered what he saw. He put his head on the pillow, and drifted sleep with thoughts of worry and guilt on his mind.


	2. How Do We Tell?

**Chapter 2**

_How Do We Tell?_

"Why was it that the more advanced a civilization became in conquering sickness, the more expert in became in the destruction of human life?" – Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

**T**he next morning, Ron wasn't his usual self. Granted, it was early, and no one's really peppy in the morning, but Ron looked as though he'd hit by a freight train. He was distracted and stared off into space often. He was paler than ever, his freckles losing their usual energy, and his eyes were dark and sunken. As he ate his breakfast, Harry noted that Ron's hand trembled slightly as he brought the fork to his mouth. He glanced across the table to Hermione, and he could tell by the expression on her face that she noticed it, too.

Mrs. Weasley came over to them. "Ron, are you feeling well, dear? You look awfully pale." She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. "And you're quite warm."

Mrs. Weasley knew that Ron had been attacked by the brain all that time ago, so she knew where the scars on his arms came from. But Ron never told her about the bouts of hysteria that took him. For a while, Ron would put a Silencing Charm on himself before going to sleep, because the scenes would take him in his sleep. He tried to keep them to himself for a few months, but Harry found out about them in his sixth year when Ron fell asleep before he could Silence himself. They came more often then.

Ron jerked his head away from his mother's hand. "Quit it, Mum; I'm fine. I'm just a little nervous about this being my last year at Hogwarts." He looked at Hermione and Harry, his eyes asking for agreement and cover.

"Yeah, me too," Hermione piped up. "I mean, my stomach's all fluttery just thinking abut being Head Girl on top of everything else."

"Ditto to what Hermione said," Harry said. "Except to the part about being a girl," he added.

Mrs. Weasley smiled at them. "Well, alright. When you three are finished eating, go bring your things downstairs. Oh, and Harry, Hedwig went out late last night and hasn't come back yet. You'll see her at Hogwarts."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley."

She smiled again and walked to the other end of the table to finish her own breakfast. Ron stood, still with half a plate of food in front of him, and disappeared up the stairway.

Hermione leaned over the basket of muffins in front of her and lowered her voice. "Did Ron talk to you at all this morning?"

"No," Harry whispered back. "He was up before I was, and when he finished his shower, he got dressed and went downstairs, mumbling something about being hungry, without so much as a glance in my direction."

Hermione's eyes wandered to Ron's plate. "When was the last time he didn't finish eating?"

"Never."

"For some reason, that worries me more than the way he's acting. He's acted all detached and depressed before, but even then he ate." She sighed and looked at Harry. "We have to talk to him."

"I though we were going to wait."

"Not about that; about his episodes. They can't be very good for him." She chewed her lip nervously.

"I don't know, Hermione; he might not be willing to talk about it."

She waved her hand at him. "That doesn't matter. We're his best friends; we'll just gently coax him into talking."

Harry still felt wary, but agreed. "Okay, but we have to do it slowly; ease it out of him."

Mrs. Weasley's voice interrupted them. "Hurry up, you two. We're leaving in twenty minuets."

Harry drained his glass of juice as he stood, walked to the sink and placed his plate in it. Hermione followed suit. He pulled her into him as the reached the top of stairs. Instead of kissing her, he pulled her into her and whispered in her ear, "Let me start when we talk to Ron. I know what it's like to have strange visions and then be probed about them."

"Okay." She kissed him quickly on the cheek and disappeared into Ginny's room. As Harry climbed the stairs to Ron's room, the red head pushed past, dragging his trunk behind him, broom tucked under his arm, and holding his birdcage above his head.

_Getting him to sit down with us and listen, let alone _talkw_ill be a challenge_, Harry thought. He climbed the stairs and walked in the room. Ron seemed to have packed hurriedly, with the sole purpose of missing Harry and Hermione coming up. His dresser drawers were opened, clothes spilling over the edges; the old paper from Pig's cage was lying on top of his bed. Harry shook his head and tucked Hedwig's under his arm. He grabbed his trunk and rested his Firebolt on his shoulder.

"Nearly impossible."

-

Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley crew, accompanied by Lupin and Tonks, walked through the King's Cross. Among them were three broomsticks, one empty birdcage, one twittering owl, and a hissing cat. Needless to say, more than one person stopped to watch them pass by.

They reached the entrance to Platform 9¾ with about ten minuets to spare. Ron hurried through first, quickly followed Charlie and Bill. Ginny went next, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Last to go were Lupin, Harry, Hermione, and Tonks, in that order. By the time Harry got onto the platform Ron was waving goodbye to his family and rushing onto the train. Charlie cam over to him and took his trolley.

"What was that all about?"

"We asked Ron to go ahead and save us an empty compartment," Harry answered without the slightest hesitation.

Mrs. Weasley rushed up to them. "Do you two have everything you need?"

"Yes, don't worry," Hermione responded.

Harry said nothing. He looked past Mrs. Weasley and spotted Dean, with a woman, who, on seeing her nose and eyes, Harry was sure was Dean's mother. "Hold on, Mrs. Weasley; I just want to say hi to Dean. I'll be right back." He strolled toward Dean, waving to get his attention as he neared. Dean smiled and waved back.

As he got closer, Harry saw more resemblance in Dean and his mother. Their dimples and fair skin were almost identical.

"Hullo, Harry. This is my mom. Mom, this is Harry Potter."

As Harry held out his hand to her, he saw the faintest glimmer of something in her eyes. It looked like wanted realization; when you remember something, but it's just out of reach of your mind's grasp. It disappeared within a moment, and was replaced by a smile that also spread across her lips. She took Harry's hand and shook it.

"It's nice to finally meet you Harry. I've heard much about you from Dean, but I'm sure you get that all the time."

Mrs. Thomas had a gorgeous, singsong voice. Harry almost thought he could some how place it, but it was probably just from being on the platform before.

Harry smiled in return. "It's nice to meet you, too. But I have to go and say goodbye to the Weasleys. I'll see you later, Dean."

Dean waved a farewell as Harry turned and headed back.

The whistle screamed as Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry tightly. "Have a good year. And if you ever need _anything_, you just send Hedwig and I'll send it back straight away."

Harry waved goodbye to everyone and followed Hermione onto the Express.

She turned around to him. "I'm going to see if I can find the Head Boy; I've no idea who he is. You go and see if you can track down Ron, and try to get him to open up just a little." She turned again and disappeared into the front of the train.

Harry ambled through the cars, searching for the compartment that was hiding Ron. On his pursuit, he saw Seamus, Lavender, Colin, and to his surprise, Ginny.

"What are you doing here?" he asked when he came across her.

"I was sitting with Ron, to see if he was feeling better, but he made me leave. I hope he's okay."

Harry's heart went out to her. He didn't have any brothers or sisters, so he never really knew brotherly love it a family sense. But Ron came in at a damn near second. "Don't worry; I'll talk to him." He slid closed the door with a goodbye and continued with his search for Ron.

After a few more minuets, he stumbled upon Ron's compartment. Inside, he was shocked to find Luna, a Ravenclaw sixth year he'd met the previous year. His mind swirled as memories of the Ministry can barging uninvited into his head.

She sat quietly across from Ron, reading her father's magazine, _The Quibbler_; upside down, as usual. Ron was staring blackly out the window, apparently unaware of Luna's presence.

"Umm...Luna? Do you think I could talk to Ron alone for a few minuets?" Both Luan and Ron looked up at the same time, Ron looking at Luna, trying to sort out how she got there.

Luna smiled her usual dreamy smile. "No problem." She quickly stood, and with a small wave to Ron, walked past Harry.

Harry sat down directly across from his friend. "Ron?" Ron ignored him and stared out the window. "Ron!" Harry repeated harshly. Ron stiffly turned toward Harry, his eyes still sad and sunken.

"Ron, did what happen tonight ever happen before?"

Ron didn't answer, and returned his gaze to the speeding hills out the window.

"Did it, Ron? You can tell me; I'm your best friend, I won't tell any one if you don't want. Not even Hermione."

"You've no idea." Ron's voice came as a horse whisper.

Harry smiled in spite of himself. "About what; having visions? You're a tad off there, mate. I've had my fair share."

"No; not that." Harry had to strain his ears to hear his friend. "To see the kind of visions I do. You've told me about your visions; safe, nothing happening that's that bad."

"What do you see Ron?"

He continued to stare out the window.

"Ron."

"Yes."

"Yes about what?"

"Last night; it's happened before. It feels like my soul is being torn from me piece by piece."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Harry asked with heavy exasperation. "We can help. We'll go to Dumbledore."

"No!" Ron's face was awfully pale as he spoke the one word roughly. "We're not going to Dumbledore. He'll only want to know I see, and I'm not telling him or anyone else. I'm managing fine on my own." He set his face and fixed his gaze out the window. Harry decided not to press the issue.

A few minuets later, Hermione walked into the compartment, with a mixed look of anger and confusion. She sat down next to Harry.

"What's the matter with him?" she asked Harry, looking at Ron.

"He opened a little." Hermione's expression lit a bit. "Don't press him. He asked that I didn't tell anyone. He'll tell you when he's ready.

"And what about you; what's that look for?"

"Do you know who Head Boy is?"

"Ernie?"

"No; worse. Malfoy."

Harry stared at her with disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me." Hermione shook her. "That's crazy. The Head Boy and Girl's rooms are next to each other and practically hidden in the castle. Malfoy'll kill you."

"I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore when we get to Hogwarts; perhaps it's a mistake."

"I'll go with you; I need to talk with him, too."

"What for?"

Harry glanced at Ron. "Um, about my scar, and the mood impressions of Voldemort." Even in his sedated state, Ron flinched at the name.

"We must be getting close to the castle," Hermione said. "We should get changed." She looked at Ron, who made no effort to move. "I'll find another compartment to change in." She grabbed her robes and walked out.

Ron paid no attention to the movement and didn't change; his blank eyes staring at nothing in particular. After Harry changed, he set out to find Hermione.

After a few minuets of looking he gave up, and stood and looked out the window. His heart and mind were heavy with concern and guilt.

As the Hogwarts castle slowly grew in the distance, Harry found himself less than excited to be here.

-

The moment the reached the castle doors, Harry and Hermione set off toward Dumbledore's office. They didn't worry about leaving Ron behind; the moment the train stopped, he'd jumped off and scrambled into the quickly filling carriages, leaving Harry and Hermione behind. For a moment before getting on, Ron stared at the empty space before the carriage, as if gazing at the thestral that pulled it. It soon passed.

Harry led the way, being the only person on the lonesome duo to know where it was. They climbed the stairs to his office entrance just as Dumbledore appeared at the top.

"Hello Harry; Miss Granger." His eyes twinkled as they reached the top. "You two seem to be a long way from the Great Hall. Is there something that you are looking for?"

"Actually, Professor, we were wondering if we could have a word with you before the feast," Hermione said

"We will miss the Sorting, which I do enjoy," he started, and then saw the desperate look on their faces. "But, it seems important, so, this once, I will miss it."

"Thank you," Harry said as Dumbledore led them to his entrance.

"Ice Mice," he said in a clear voice. The door swung inward, and he entered, with Harry and Hermione quick on his heels.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, and motioned for them to do the same. They quickly lowered themselves into the wooden chairs facing him. "So," he began, folding his hands on the desk, "what seems to be the urgency?"

"It's Ron," Harry blurted out. Hermione looked at him with a face that made him fade into invisibility.

Dumbledore smiled. "And what's the problem with Mr. Weasley?"

"Well, he didn't want us to tell anyone," Hermione said, her voice wavering, "but ever since he was attacked by the brain, he's had... episodes."

Dumbledore said nothing, so Harry continued the conversation. "Last night was the worst we'd ever seen. It was... horrifying."

Dumbledore sighed, as if expecting it. "I was waiting for this to happen."

"So you know what's happening to Ron?"

Dumbledore sat silent for a moment. "Yes and no," he said finally, again motioning for them to sit down. When they were seated, he continued.

"You both know of the Memory Charm, do you not?" As Harry, nodded his mind wandered back to the Chamber of Secrets, where he and Ron had almost lost their own memories. "Well, after a memory has been diminished from a person's mind, they all must go some where. And that somewhere is in the Department of Mysteries."

"Are you saying that all the brains are holding memories that have been forgotten with the charm?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"But how is that possible? There must be billions upon billions of memories that have been blasted away, and there were only a few dozen brains."

The professor smiled. "Let me ask you something, Miss Granger. How much of their brain does a muggle use?"

"About ten percent."

"Excellent. And a wizard?"

Hermione's eyes blurred as she quickly scanned her own memory. "We use twelve to fifteen percent."

"And look at how much more ability we have with that little percentage. Now, both of you imagine if we used one hundred percent."

Harry's eyes widened with comprehension. "My god; that would be incredible. Our memories would be vast! We could hold so much information."

"Precisely."

"So what you are saying is that the brains in the tank use the entire whole of their abilities."

"Which is why they can hold so many memories."

"But that's awful!"

Harry turned to look at Hermione, who had a look of terror on her face. She turned to him, to see the confused look on his own. "The knowledge they hold is deadly. They know all human weaknesses; how to get by our strengths; how to destroy us."

Dumbledore's face was grave. "Which is why we keep them hidden in the Department of Mysteries."

"Why do we allow them to exist?" Harry asked.

"Because we hold exposure of our kind and our own comfort in higher regard than the safety of others," Dumbledore replied sadly.

The three sat in silence for a few moments, thinking.

"So, what about Ron?" Harry asked, shattering the silence.

"Well, can you imagine holding all those horrible memories for eternity?" Dumbledore replied.

"No," Harry replied truthfully.

Dumbledore smiled. "Well, let's imagine you can. Wouldn't you take any chance you can get to rid yourself of even one?"

"So Ron is being haunted by an awful memory that the brain transferred to him," Hermione said.

"Unfortunately."

"That's awful," Hermione said, her eyes brimming with tears. "And he's been holding it all in for over a year."

"Yes well, I'm afraid there is nothing we can do about it. We can only wait until the memory slips back into the farthest reaches of Mr. Weasley's mind." Dumbledore smiled and sat up straight, changing his demeanor entirely. "I believe that you had something you wanted to speak to me about, Miss Granger."

Hermione wiped her eyes. "Um... yes. I was wondering about your decision about Head Boy."

"You feel that I made a mistake choosing Mr. Malfoy." He flashed his all-knowing smile.

"No, no; it's just that well... We're so far away from everyone else and alone, and he hates me so..."

"Ms. Granger, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Mr. Malfoy will be civil you are."

"That's ridiculous," Harry interjected. "He hates her. There's no way that Malfoy'll be 'civil' to Hermione."

"I have faith in him."

Hermione sat quietly for a moment, staring at Dumbledore, searching his eyes. She sighed heavily. "Alright; I guess if you have faith in him, I'll give him a try." She got up from her chair.

Harry looked at Dumbledore for a moment longer, and then stood up himself. "Okay. But if Malfoy does one thing, even look at her wrong, I don't think I'll be able to control my actions."

Dumbledore smiled at them both. "No worries, Mr. Potter. Nothing will come to harm your – what are the kids calling it these days – 'main squeeze.'"

Harry and Hermione gaped at him. "What?" Hermione squeaked.

"Is that the wrong term? I really must learn your lingo properly. What is it now; 'boo?'"

"How did you -" Harry stammered.

"In your eyes; in your voices; in your actions. It is more how didn't I know. But don't worry. I won't say anything if you don't want me to."

Harry managed a wavering smile. "Thanks professor. Are you coming down with us?"

"In a moment. I have just one thing I have to do." He smiled again.

"Okay." He opened the door, and he and Hermione walked out of the office.

When they reached the hallway, Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm, stopping him.

"Harry, if Dumbledore said it was obvious, how is Ron not supposed to notice?"

Harry gulped and looked at Hermione.

"Well, it will be quite a challenge; won't it?"


End file.
